


Rainbow Sprinkles of Truth

by saruma_aki



Series: Coldflash Week 2017 A [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Feels, Fire, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Pre-Slash, Romance, Tumblr: coldflashweek, Undercover, coldflashweek, coldflashweek2017a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saruma_aki/pseuds/saruma_aki
Summary: He hated these kinds of jobs. They dug up too many memories, made him exhausted at the mere thought of them, but here he was, standing in the middle of the police department with a smile and a cup of lemonade kind of wishing he had frozen Barry and Joe the second they asked.Not to mention there was nothing more amusing than watching Barry awkwardly hold out a box containing certain toys, the way he looked so distinctly uncomfortable, and the way he had turned as red as a rose when Leonard dutifully informed him that he had sent him the wrong link by mistake--he hadn't.The things he would do if it meant getting himself out of bed in the morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Day Three of Coldflash Week 2017 in April.
> 
> Prompt: Forced to Work Together
> 
> This one is probably the longest out of all of the ones I've written for this week.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Leonard stared at him long and hard, his expression blank even though he wanted to laugh, cry, and scream all at once. Instead he simply stared before responding with an eloquent, “You want me to do what?”

It wasn’t his best moment, but it wasn’t the smartest request he had ever received.

“We need you to become a part of the CCPD and find out who it is that’s an inside man,” Detective West responded and Leonard very much wanted to turn around and walk out. Actually, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea, he noticed, and he took a casual step in the direction of the exit, gesturing with his hands that were in his coat pockets to make the action seem more natural.

“You want me, a known criminal, in your CCPD?”

“Under-cover and temporarily,” Detective West responded, arms crossed. “You’d be working alongside Barry here.”

The exit was looking even more inviting right about now and he took another step towards it, letting the back of his knuckles trail over the top of one of the tables in the lab, turning around to face Detective West again, taking another step towards the exit that was just _so close_.

“I wonder what kind of mental gymnastics you did to get to the conclusion that this would be the best course of action.”

Detective West almost bared his teeth at him, Leonard saw it in the way his lips curled back and twitched like he wanted to full out snarl while Barry seemed to be trying his damnedest not to fidget—and who was Leonard blemish his so far successful attempt by lingering around more?

“Don’t test me, Snart. I could take you in right now.”

“You could,” Leonard drawled, bowing his head to show his concession to the point before a smirk curled at his lips, eyes glinting mischievously. “But instead you’re offering me the chance to willingly walk myself in. Generous—very thoughtful of you—but I’m going to have to decline.”

He slipped out of the exit, moving down the hall briskly, but casually. Typically he’d be running, wanting to get out of there, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t get all too far before he was stopped and he would prefer to look normal and nonchalant since he knew he couldn’t outrun him anyway. And, as expected, Barry was suddenly in front of him, halting his forward progress to the outdoors, and he sighed in annoyance, sighing once again when he found himself back in the room suddenly, sat on a chair with Detective West looming over him.

It was by sheer luck that Leonard had his hand firmly on the cold gun, as he tended to do whenever he was around Barry. It would be no problem to steal it back if it was taken, or build another one if it was destroyed, but he preferred to not have to use up time on that when that time could be better spent planning or sleeping—and occasionally eating because Mick wouldn’t let him forget too many meals.

“We don’t like asking for your help, but we’re asking for it. Humor us.”

“I did—you weren’t very convincing,” Leonard drawled, wanting nothing more than to crawl back under his bed sheets and not leave until Mick or Lisa came in complaining about how cold it was in the apartment but neither of them daring to touch the thermostat, knowing how badly Leonard reacted to certain temperatures.

“You didn’t let me be convincing.”

“I hope your idea of convincing isn’t a gun to my head because I’d be really disappointed.”

“What? You’ve suffered worse?”

Leonard bit back a snarl, shrugging his shoulders. “I was going to say because an officer attacking an innocent civilian isn’t a very good look.”

“You are not innocent,” Joe hissed and Leonard grinned, all knives.

“Where’s your proof?”

Ah, yes, one of his most notable achievements. Getting Barry to essentially erase every single one of Leonard’s criminal records, essentially letting him become an innocent civilian, had been one of his better plans—though he did feel a bit bad for playing the kid, but it wasn’t his fault he didn’t think sending a bunch of people off to an island ninety-seven percent of people die in was morally correct. And he had a pretty dubious moral compass himself.

Not to mention that it wasn’t the easiest or the most logical route. If you wanted rid of a problem and you were essentially going to send them to the slaughterhouse, it was better to just kill them yourself. Then send the bodies to the island no one typically comes off of. That would be the best solution.

Of course, no one really thought through his motives, but he didn’t really care for that. He had gotten his record cleared—and then proceeded to destroy all of Mick and Lisa’s criminal records a bit later when he was completely sure of the CCPD’s schedule and storage systems—which had been indicated on the case of paper files and hacking was a walk in the park for him.

He might’ve never learned a thing about computers or coding or any of that stuff, but Leonard had always picked up on things quickly, especially when things were logical and hacking was.

Detective West snarled at him, looking like he really did want to punch Leonard and he tilted his head like he was putting his face up for presentation to punch, making the temptation even greater, wondering if West would actually go through with it. And the man nearly did, if it wasn’t for the fact that Barry grabbed his wrist, giving him an imploring look that had Detective West visibly reeling himself in and trying to calm his emotions.

Leonard would have made a joke about a dog on a leash, but Barry was turning his eyes on him and talking.

“This guy is looking for connections to the Flash. If he lucks out in the CCPD, you know you’re next. You’re the one villain with the most notable connection to me.”

Leonard pursed his lips, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his tongue. “True, but as a villain, I clearly have no actual connection to the Flash. He’d just ask for how to lure you out.”

“Clearly he wants to remain anonymous.”

Leonard shrugged. “There are many ways to lure you out, Scarlet—I just have a preference for being on scene.”

“Attention whore,” Barry hissed at him, but there was some amusement sparkling in his eyes.

He let his posture appear relaxed, a mock guilty expression on his face. “Alas, I admit it.”

Barry’s resulting laugh was sure worth it and the scandalized look on Detective West’s face made it even more so as the older male took in their easy dynamic. It wasn’t Leonard’s fault that Barry understood his sense of humor—even though Leonard knew his humor was dry and occasionally dark, along with sometimes being ridiculously nerdy, although he saved the nerd jokes for when he was in the comfort of his own apartment and alone.

“Can you help us, though?”

“Barry,” he tutted, shaking his head just slightly, “you know I don’t do anything for free.”

“I stand corrected— _greedy_ attention whore.”

He smirked in response, even though the word ‘whore’ made his insides churn in discomfort, too similar to the words his father would spit at him whenever he was drunk and missing his wife in a more intimate way. “Are you going to list all my traits? You should at least add the bad ones—it’s only fair.”

“That’s not bad?” Detective West scoffed disbelievingly and Leonard shot him a bored look, tapping his index finger on the cold gun as he thought, but he saw the way the man’s eyes flickered down to it and the way he shifted in discomfort although he seemed to try to hide it, but he didn’t do a good enough job for Leonard’s eyes to not catch sight of it.

He mulled through the options in his head. He didn’t really need anything and there really wasn’t anything Barry or Joe could get him without putting them in serious debt or in a compromising position that defeated the purpose of Leonard helping them. He had been feeling down lately, though—Lisa said he needed something to cheer himself up.

“I’ll send you a link of what you can get me as payment—no worries, nothing too expensive, although I would prefer if you delivered it by hand. Wouldn’t want it getting lost,” he mumbled, rubbing his fingertip along the edge of the gun as he thought.

“And you’ll help us?”

He sighed, rolling his head back, trying to loosen the tension in his muscles. He was most definitely going to end up with a muscle spasm at his upper shoulders and he was not happy about that. He wished he hadn’t left his apartment. Barry wouldn’t have found him if he had stayed in bed all day like he had planned.

“Sure—I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Sleeping—sleeping was something better to do and something he actually wanted to do, but he wouldn’t tell Barry that.

Barry grinned. “Awesome, then,” he declared. “This is a two week notice. We have to make sure all the documentation is put in place with Captain Singh. Try and not seem like you when you come in, alright? Come up with a believable disguise or something. Your records are gone, but Captain Cold’s face has been on television and the meta-human might recognize you even though your face was kind of covered.”

“I know how to do an undercover job, Scarlet,” he muttered, wishing with every fiber of his being that he didn’t because those had never been good experiences. “Am I free to go now or will you drag me back in here a third time?”

“You can leave,” Detective West all but growled and he spun on his heel, slowly walking out, pulling out his phone with one hand, keeping his other hand on the cold gun as he walked, texting Lisa that he was sorry he was late to meet up with her and that he would be there soon.

“Snart,” Barry called and Leonard bit back a sigh, feeling all kinds of tired and he really just wanted to go home and sleep for the next two weeks before having to face this.

“Yes?”

“Here’s my number.” Leonard blinked at the post-it shoved into his hand. “It’s easier for us to keep in contact for this than me tracking you down every single time we need to discuss something.”

“Right,” he mumbled, staring down at it before shoving it in his pocket along with his phone. “See you in two weeks, Scarlet.”

Barry gave him a jaunty salute. “See you in two weeks.”

 

 

 

Two weeks was not long enough, in Leonard’s strong, very strong, opinion.

He needed at least two months before dealing with this, but he was only given two weeks, so he dragged himself out of bed at promptly four in the morning, stepping into the shower and letting the weak, cold spray wash away his sleepiness although he knew he still wanted to crawl back into bed than deal with anything—a desire he fought against every single day for no reason other than the fact that the onetime Mick forcibly dragged him out of bed and sprayed him with ice cold water was one time too many and he didn’t want a replay.

Scrubbing down his body after standing under the water for two minutes, he made sure he was completely clean and aware before shutting off the water and drying off. His clothes were already set out on their hooks, freshly ironed and ready for him to slip on which he did, tugging on a black cardigan over the blue dress shirt, trying not to cringe internally at his state of dress. He had never been one for formal wear.

Barry had said attire like this was the acceptable style for the workplace, though, so he forced away his dislike and adjusted his sleeves before turning to the small bag lying on his bedside table, grabbing it and heading back to the bedroom to begin the transformation.

He hadn’t put on make-up in ages and the techniques and products had certainly gotten better than how they were when he was younger and forced to do this stuff in Lisa’s place because there was no way in hell he would let Lewis throw her into the snake’s pit so that he could score a few lousy bucks. The basics of applying make-up, though, were still the same and spending the two weeks watching YouTube videos and perfecting his technique certainly made it easier.

He got rid of the dark circles under his eyes and with a few well placed brush strokes, completely change the appearance of his nose, making it appear straighter and like it curved up just slightly at the end. He hid the exhaustion in his expression with dark brown eye shadow, highlighting just under his brow and he filled in his eyebrows to match the black of the curls on his head.

He hadn’t grown out his hair in ages, but he knew how a job was supposed to be done and if he was going to help, he was going to do a damn good job at it. After all, he never did a job halfway.

The slightest bit of mascara darkened the appearance of his eyelashes and he quickly washed his hands, spraying the make-up setter on his face before pulling out the small tray from the bag and popping in the brown contacts to cover the blue of his irises. The slightest bit of pink to his lips finished it all and he stared at himself in the mirror, carefully placing his curls in the proper way, thanking online videos for all the methods of how to speed up the hair growth process—and thanking whatever deities existed for it working.

And then, obviously, thanking hair dye companies for making his hair be the complete dark brown—could be considered black—it used to be, a necessity for his look. He was going for a more youthful look for this one because he knew exactly what the statistics said on what kind of person people found it the easiest to open up to.

He already knew he was going to hate today.

 

 

 

“Nice to meet you, Captain Singh,” he said, making his voice bright and cheery even though he still felt like a sloth at six in the morning, holding his cup of lemonade in one hand and shaking the man’s hand with the other.

“You’re Lincoln Scofield, right?”

He nodded, smiling and barely resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his leg, instead wrapping his fingers around the strap of his bag, taking a sip from his lemonade and keeping up the charade of being the total newcomer. He most certainly had not missed undercover jobs. He could practically feel Lewis breathing down his neck, telling him to not mess this up or Lisa was going to get it.

“You’ll be working with Mr. Allen, primarily, although I’m sure you’re aware. You’ll be assisting him with whatever he needs. Mr. Allen, however, is sometimes late or helping myself and Detective West, so you will also be working with other people whenever Mr. Allen is otherwise indisposed.”

He nodded, pretending to be attentive even though he already knew all of this, his eyes flicking about instead, making the motion appear like it was more out of curiosity than the surveillance it really was, checking for who the prime suspect would be. He had worked with quite a few meta-humans before. He knew that most of them had a tick, a nervous habit typically relating to their ability.

He followed Captain Singh up the stairs, looking about, catching one of the officer’s eyes and they smiled at him. He returned it, making it shy and nervous, moving his eyes quickly back to Singh. He hated playing this role, but it was the one that most people responded to and he wanted this to be done and over with as soon as possible.

Barry wasn’t there yet, Leonard having shown up early, so he settled in for going about and getting a feel for the place he had only ever been in to destroy Lisa and Mick’s files. He hadn’t really had time or wanted to take everything in, then. He knew the layout, though, and the names of every single worker, but he feigned cluelessness as he perused the halls, going about the desks, making sure not to get in anyone’s way.

“Hey, you’re new,” the guy that smiled at him from before called and he paused, looking over, pretending to look around in a moment of panic before pointing at himself, brow furrowed, only letting himself smile and head over when the man nodded with a grin. “I’m Richard,” he held out his hand and Leonard accepted it, taking another sip of his lemonade.

“Lincoln,” he responded, hiding how strange the name felt on his tongue. The man was a brunette with light stubble and big hands. When they released hands, Leonard watched him rub his thumb along the inside of his palm before shoving his hand in his pocket. He made a mental note of the man in his head, a potential. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Where’re you from?”

“Up north,” he vaguely gestured, quickly stilling the hand holding his lemonade and giving an awkward smile even while he rolled his eyes internally at this ridiculous ruse he had to put up, “but I’ve been living here in Central for about three years.”

“Really,” the man whistled lowly and Leonard wished the man’s breath didn’t have to wash over his face when he did, but it did and he smiled through it, knowing he wouldn’t even be able to rub his face to make himself feel better about it. “What made you decide to get a job here?”

“I’ve always wanted to help people,” he responded, the lie rolling off his tongue easily, his smile bright. He knew how to fake this stuff down to the tee. “I should go back upstairs, though. Mr. Allen will probably show up soon.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, hooking his thumb in his pocket, ignoring the churn of his stomach as Richard’s eyes seemed to glint, looking at him from hooded eyes.

“You go run along, then,” he responded, grinning, and Leonard was familiar with those kinds of grins, feeling sick. Of course he would figure it out on the first day there. He was efficient like that—a new face was always a potential target and anyone who was smart would pounce on the new meat, get all the information they could out of them before the newcomer had a chance to make connections with anyone else. “I’ll see you around.”

He nodded, grinning, tongue pressing roughly against the roof of his mouth as he smiled. “See you around,” he mimicked, ducking his head shyly, curls falling in his face before turning on his heel and ignoring the heat of the man’s gaze, tossing his lemonade out in one of the trash bins as he moved up the stairs.

He sat in Barry’s lab, staring up at the ceiling, back against the brick of the wall, the floor cold and hard under him. He pressed his fingers into his denim clad thighs, breathing deeply as he sorted his thoughts out.

There was more than one meta-human, not necessarily in the CCPD, but more than one working towards the same goal together.

Richard was the prime suspect. Everyone seemed to have nothing but good things to say about him, but Leonard remembered the tick, the tick every single meta-human he ever encountered had. He had a fair guess on his power, too. He was the one consistently interfering with the radio signals so that the CCPD didn’t know where the emergency was until at least three nine-one-one calls later.

A good way to ensure that where the Flash got his info sometimes was here in the CCPD—Leonard had to give them props on that, but he knew Richard couldn’t possibly be the mastermind. He was too obvious.

“Holy shit,” Barry exclaimed as he whirled around after shutting the door to the room and saw Leonard sitting on the floor. “Who are you?”

He leveled the man with a deadpan look until Barry put two and two together—which took an embarrassingly long time for someone as smart as Barry, if Leonard was being honest. The man seemed to jump, hands fluttering about before he was rushing around, rubbing his eyes and continuously casting glances at Leonard as he got up from his sitting position, dusting off his pants before facing Barry.

“You done there,” he drawled; his hands shoved in his pockets, watching as Barry froze, took a few steps towards him and then paced from side to side before taking another few steps closer to him.

“God, it’s that you look so different,” he breathed, hand reaching out and brushing just slightly over one of Leonard’s curls. “Is this real?”

Leonard sighed, resigning himself to let Barry have his moment of shock, simply nodding his head in response.

“I’m going to die of shock the second I see you talk to someone, aren’t I?”

“I’m going to hazard a guess that you’re already on your way to dying.”

“Probably,” Barry responded, absent-mindedly. “God, you are amazing at this, though. That is—wow, if I didn’t know you were supposed to be here I would have never guessed—wow,” Barry continued mumbling. “I miss your blue eyes though,” suddenly drifted through the mumbled words and Leonard blinked, staring at Barry, but the man didn’t seem to notice had even said anything, still seeming to be in shock. “I like the ‘you’ you better, though,” he finally concluded, coming out of the daze at the end of the sentence suddenly snapping into motion. “I forgot I actually have a job to do.”

Leonard snorted, grabbing a marker and tugging the whiteboard on wheels over, hastily writing away on it.

‘There’s more than one meta’.

Barry stopped, looking over, walking closer to stand by him as he stared at the words.

“Why don’t you just,” he trailed off, waving his phone to finish the sentence.

‘My phone’s off and yours should be, too’ he wrote quickly. ‘The meta here is probably connected to the forms of communication. I don’t know the extent, though. Think CIA and all that stuff’.

Barry blinked before nodding. “I’m texting Joe to come here.” Barry grabbed the marker, writing the rest of what he wanted to say ‘and then I’m turning it off; I don’t know if they can listen in via phones’.

Leonard nodded, watching Barry text Detective West to hurry up and get to his lab, wondering what else he should write.

‘I think Richard is the one interfering with the calls’ he wrote, pondering over the words, continuing to write under it. ‘He’s not the leader, though’. That seemed like a sufficient summary of what he had gathered.

Barry stared at the words before looking at Leonard. “You’ve been here for an hour!”

He shrugged with a small smirk playing on his lips.

Detective West’s reaction when he saw Leonard was just as amusing as Barry’s had been, if not even more so considering the fact that Detective West was bigger and more serious than Barry, so seeing the man trip over his feet and slam the door shut was just a bit more amusing.

 

 

 

“You said you’ve done this before,” Barry said while they sat in the apartment Leonard had rented just for this very job. He didn’t want to invite anyone to his actual place of residence. Leonard hummed in response from where he was in the bathroom removing the contacts and scrubbing off the last of his make-up. It was one week of doing this and Leonard was no closer to finding out who the fuck was the leader. “Was it like this, then?”

He sighed, scrubbing off the last of the make-up with soap, rinsing his face before emerging from the bathroom, the tips of his curls soaked, patting his face dry with a towel. “No,” he responded, checking the clock to see how much longer it would take for the food to arrive, “back then I had a time limit and I wasn’t hunting people.”

“What were you doing then?”

“Getting money and connections,” he responded curtly, wishing they could talk about something else, not wanting to think about those times more than he already did. This job on its own brought those memories to the forefront of his mind, his father’s calloused grip on his shoulder as he shoved him out the door, telling him not to come back without some numbers and a wad of bills—the stench of beer on the man’s breath and Lisa watching him walk down the street from her bedroom window, not knowing what was going on but terrified nonetheless.

“How old were you when you used to do them?”

He shrugged, pulling out a water bottle from the fridge and uncapping it and taking a swig.

“You don’t remember?”

He shrugged again. “I think I started when I was fifteen—can’t say for certain, though.” That was a lie. He knew exactly when he started. He started when he was fifteen, that much was true, and he kept doing it right up till he was twenty-three and Lisa was safely out of the house and his father in prison for, what should have been, good. That was when he stopped, when the man was no longer there to hold a broken beer bottle against his throat and carve words and designs into his skin, no longer there to hold Lisa by her hair and knock her around with Leonard unable to do anything from where he was slumped against the wall, blood dripping down his temple and vision swimming.

“Was it—”

“You ask a lot of questions, Scarlet,” Leonard mused, leaning against the counter and continuing to sip his water. Barry’s expression crumpled into an apologetic one as if he suddenly realized he was digging into a past that was a sore spot for most people who had suffered what Leonard did.

Leonard wouldn’t say he really minded the questions, but he certainly wasn’t in the mood to talk about them—not while working a job like this.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ask your questions later, preferably in a week when this whole thing is done with.”

“Isn’t a week a bit optimistic?”

“Maybe—but I don’t like waking up and putting on make-up every morning, so I’m going to try and get this finished by the end of next week.”

“Is it hard, putting that stuff on, I mean?”

Leonard pursed his lips, mulling the question in his head. “Once you know what you’re doing, not really. You just can’t really touch your face when you’re doing a disguise because you want to avoid any flaws. If I was wearing it casually, then it’d be fine.”

Barry nodded his head, looking like this was the most fascinating thing ever. “We should do drag together some time.”

Leonard will forever deny he choked on his water due to the sudden bout of laughter that seized him.

 

 

 

“You know, I don’t see you hanging out with too many people here,” Richard told him and he cheered internally, knowing the pieces were, at last, falling into place.

“I can’t say I’ve really gotten to know anyone,” Leonard responded, putting on a mild frown and looking at his shoes, glancing back up at Richard from under his lashes. He could see Barry upstairs watching with an amused expression, now that he was past his shock phase—which had been positively hilarious as he watched Barry literally trip and fall every single time Leonard began acting as Lincoln.

“Well, how about we have dinner together? I know a lot of good places around here.”

Leonard held back a shudder as Richard took a step closer. “That’s really nice of you, but I have a lot of allergies, so restaurants aren’t really good for me to go to,” he mumbled, trying to look crestfallen at the idea of not being able to go. People were disappointingly easy to play.

“How about I come over to your place and you can cook? That way we can chat for a bit and your allergies won’t be a problem.”

Leonard blinked at the man, remaining quiet for a bit and watching the man fidget a little bit.

“I mean I’d invite you to my place and cook for you, but I don’t know your allergies and I’d hate to mess up and feed you something you can’t eat.”

Leonard smiled although internally he was smirking, letting his hand rest on Richard’s forearm for a moment. “It’s okay, I don’t mind cooking. It sounds like a plan,” he responded, smiling, chewing on his bottom lip slightly as he pulled out a post-it note and a pen, writing down his fake apartment’s address, handing it to the man. “Does seven o’clock work?”

Richard grinned—and there was that glint in his eyes again—and took the paper, looking at it and pocketing it. “Seven is perfect.”

Leonard tried not to grin.

 

 

 

‘There’s going to be a fire in my apartment building tonight. Do not show up’ is what Leonard wrote on the board, giving Barry the most serious look he could muster, trying to portray the gravity of the meaning of his words in his expression alone.

Barry blinked, eyes wide, looking at Leonard with concern and looked ready to say no, but Leonard cocked his head, narrowed his eyes a bit more until Barry sighed, nodding his head. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing the marker from Leonard and writing on the board hurriedly. ‘Promise you’ll be fine?’

He shrugged, letting a small smirk play on his lips. “Maybe,” was the only response he gave, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be completely fine.

 

 

 

“I need a name,” he whispered, letting his fingers pull tighter around the leather of the belt. “Are you going to give it to me?”

The orange flames were licking around them and Leonard knew he had a limited amount of time before the firefighters arrived and he needed to get this name out before calling Barry to get the man to Iron Heights.

The man was spitting and hissing, his face purple from the pressure on his neck restricting his breathing and the fire eating up all the oxygen in the room. Leonard could feel himself becoming light headed, but feeling off kilter was something he was used to and he let his hold on the belt slacken slightly, letting the male draw in a lungful of smoke.

“A name,” he hissed, jerking tight again.

“Fuck—I won’t—you are the devil.”

“Name,” he tugged again, the male’s body lurching with the force.

“F—Maria,” the male gasped, hands tugging at the leather, “Roberts—that’s the name, I swear,” he coughed. Leonard gripped the man’s face in with his fingers, wrenching his face around to look at him.

“If you’re lying,” he growled out warningly.

“I’m not, I’m not,” Richard was sobbing, his tears losing themselves in the heat Leonard could feel and see devouring the room around them. “Lord, have mercy, don’t let the devil take me, don’t let him.”

He snarled, tearing the belt off the man’s neck. “Did I come dressed as everything you wanted?” he hissed. Richard’s arms locked around his leg and tugged, jerking him down to the man’s level, his knees hitting the ground with a crack and he felt fingers curling in his curls, his head slammed against the floor.

“Everything I wanted and more,” Richard hissed and Leonard pushed back against the hand, the flames dangerously close to his face, letting his leg fly out and kick the man in the side, rolling their positions the second Richard’s grip loosened, hand reaching out blindly for the pan he knew was on the stove, batting Richard’s hands away with it, the oil in the flaming pan spilling out.

Leonard could only watch as the male screamed, body jerking as the fire moved closer, the hot oil searing his skin. Rushing to the window, Leonard shoved it open, dropping the pan as he went, flinging it open and shoving his head out. The firefighters were there with their hoses and he cursed internally, screaming out a quick ‘help’, knowing he had their attention and frantically waving his hands as some of the firefighters rushed closer.

Seeing they were moving, he cast a glance back at Richard, who was still shrieking, before slipping out the window and sliding down the railings of the fire escape, jumping down once the steps caught off, landing in a crouch and rolling to spread out the momentum and lessen the impact, gritting his teeth as he straightened, jumping out of the way as the pan flew out the window after him, glass shattering, the flaming pan quickly put out by quick working firefighters.

Tearing off the sweater vest he was wearing, he wrapped it around his face, moving away from the emerging firefighters, that were rushing into the building, losing himself in the chaos and submerging himself into the crowd of people that had come out of the building—all on time and all safe, thankfully—perfectly according to plan.

He emerged from the crowd, his eyes moving over to the cops and there he found Detective West, looking alarmed at the fire spitting forth from the building.

“It’s contained, don’t worry,” he bit out as he got close, keeping his face covered. Detective West startled looking at him as Leonard grabbed his wrist, dragging him back to the detective’s car. “We need to go. I got a name and if it’s right, we only have tonight to do it.”

 

 

 

“You said you’d be fine,” Barry muttered accusingly as they stood over the unconscious form of one Maria Roberts and Leonard shrugged, his scalp still smarting and his temple bruised and bleeding, small burns lining his forearms and calves.

“I said ‘maybe’,” was his rebuttal, turning to look at Barry. “And I also said by the end of this week.”

“You make good on your promises.”

“I don’t promise,” Leonard muttered, dragging the woman up, staring at the mess of herbs and powders around them. “I look out for my own best interests. There’s a difference.”

Barry watched him with an odd look on his face as Leonard passed Maria Roberts over to Detective West for him to run her to Iron Heights.

“Is that why you went through the trouble of keeping the fire contained and getting everyone out of the apartment building beforehand?” the male whispered, suddenly very close and Leonard looked back at him, curls shielding his eyes.

“Are you trying to insinuate something here, Scarlet?”

Barry looked at him again and it felt like he could see right through him even though Leonard knew he couldn’t—no one could, not even Lisa. He had perfectly constructed himself to be someone that couldn’t be manipulated.

“I keep wondering if the real you is the one you were pretending to be as Lincoln,” the male whispered, stepping even closer.

“The question you should be asking yourself is if _this_ is the real me.”

“I think it is,” Barry mumbled, taking another step closer, moving around Leonard so that they were facing each other. “And I think that was, too.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“You told me, when I asked you why you chose the name Lincoln Scofield, that the best lies have some truth in them. Lincoln Scofield—L.S—it’s your initials.”

Sometimes he wondered why Barry was attentive to the things that didn’t really require his attention.

“And you think you’re right?”

“I think I’d very much like to find out,” was Barry’s response and there was a smile on his face and this hope in his eyes that made the corners of Leonard’s lips twitch upward into the barest hint of a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Feel free to find me on instagram ( @saruma_aki ) where I let y'all know when I have a new fic and the rest is multi-fandom posts.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments below! <3


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